4 Impossible

Despite the real thoughts in his heart, Chu Tianhe took care never to show them on his face.

"Ah, would you look at me," he said, barking a laugh, "I forgot that Brother Shen is Shen Tianlong's descendant. How could you have a liking for such a small amount of money?"

With that said, he directly pulled out another stack of shining gold banknotes from his pocket.

"Brother Shen, these gold banknotes together are worth 100,000 gold. I'll give these to your Falling Cloud Abbey if you hand me the sect command. I'll even add on a first-class cultivation technique. What do you think?" he asked with a smile that struggled to reach his eyes. Drops of blood fell from his heart as he waited for an answer.

This was 100,000 gold, a fifth of the amount of money his Pure Wind Abbey had saved up since its founding. He was shaking the foundation of the Pure Wind Abbey by offering up one of their three first-class cultivation techniques.

'However, things that can be given can also be taken away.' As this calming thought burrowed its way into his mind, the throats of the disciples who had followed him became dry as old cotton.

100,000 gold!

They had never seen so much money in their entire lives. They believed that no one, not even a 'thousand cauldron' powerhouse, would be able to remain unmoved by such a large amount.

Chu Tianhe's mouth curved into a smug smile at their reactions. If even his disciples were tempted, then how could Shen Shu, this great spender and coveter of female beauty be any different?

With nothing left to say, he squinted at Shen Shu, waiting for the moment when this good-for-nothing wastrel would reveal his true nature.

A dozen, long breaths descended in silence.

During this period, the atmosphere became grave and terrifying, as if a layer of dark, invisible clouds had enshrouded the ruined courtyard. Shen Shu stood from his position before the heavy pressure choked the air from their lungs. The worn-out wooden chair under him creaked, the wail of an old dog in the final throes of death.

"A-Abbey Lord, think twice!" Old Jiang implored, face turning gray with defeat and disappointment. At this moment, he seemed ten years older as his essence, Qi, and spirit sank with his complexion.

"Senior brother!"

"Abbey lord!!" the other disciples of Falling Cloud Abbey shouted. Their anxious, disappointed, and worried eyes fixed on Shen Shu's body. They were all orphans who had been adopted by the Falling Cloud Abbey, so they had heard stories of its glorious history ever since they were children. Though the Falling Cloud Abbey was ruined now, they each believed it would become prosperous and magnificent again.

But now, Shen Shu wanted to hand over the sect command for his own selfish interests. They felt as if their lifetime dream was being painfully shattered right in front of them, filling them with all kinds of emotions.

"Relax." Shen Shu turned back and gave them a reassuring smile. But this smile quickly faded from his face as not one of them seemed to relax at his words. He shook his head. His predecessor had left too terrible of an impression behind.

'It seems like I have to find a way to change their image of me soon,' he thought before continuing to move forward.

Since ancient times, the reputation and strength of a powerhouse had been established by their fists not their mouth.

"Abbey lord!"

"Abbey lord!" everyone called out again. This time, they felt as if they were shouldering a mountain. Their feet were firmly rooted to the ground. Unable to move, tears of sadness and grief spilled across young Tongtong's small cheeks.

Only Chu Tianhe's wide grin served as a stark contrast to their somber mood. Even though he had been a abbey lord for three years and had seen many storms, he couldn't calm the waves in his heart. His body trembled with excitement as he watched Shen Shu approach. In his mind's eye, he could already see the scene of his Pure Wind Abbey receiving the respect and homage of ten thousand people, ruling the four directions as one of the Great Wind Commandery's first ten sects.

"Brother Shen!" the disciples of Falling Cloud Abbey shouted as Shen Shu finally arrived in front of Chu Tianhe and received the stack of gold banknotes from his outstretched hand.

"Brother Shen, I promise that you will certainly not regret the decision you've made today!" Chu Tianhe said, voice sharp with excitement. In this moment, he felt as if a heaven-shocking reward had fallen from the sky and smacked him on the head. His heart ascended to the clouds.

"Right?" Shen Shu replied with a smile that showed neither approval nor disapproval.

"Yes, I promise you, Brother Shen, that I--"

"Crack!"

The mirth on Chu Tianhe's face froze as a sudden bolt of pain shot through the side of his cheek. Shock spread through him in waves of numbness. With a blank expression, he watched the gold banknotes that had struck him fall from his face to the ground, uncomprehending.

"Abbey lord?"

"Abbey lord?!"

Sounds of doubt and excitement appeared from behind Shen Shu. When Shen Shu turned around, he saw that the eyes of Shen Linlin and the others were shining. They were bright like the stars in the night sky, full of life and worship.

Old Jiang, whose eyes had originally dimmed like candles starved of air, were bright again. The wrinkles on his face slowly deepened in an uneven-toothed smile, a smile that contained endless gratification and pride.

"Brother Shen, what are you doing?" Chu Tianhe exclaimed incredulously, struggling to find his composure.

Didn't Shen Shu want his money?

Did he just throw it at his face as it was nothing more than dirt?

Impossible!

This was impossible!

Chu Tianhe kept shaking his head in disbelief. Those gold banknotes weren't pieces of scrap paper. They were worth 100,000 gold. That amount of money had been enough to make him excited. How could Shen Shu, this good-for-nothing wastrel, not want it? He had to be hallucinating. He slapped himself twice in hopes that he would wake up from whatever nightmare he was in.